


An Intolerable Radiance of Wings

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, Multi, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rescue Missions, Threesome - F/M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Temple is closed, and Ivelisse is on the road with Son of Havoc.  They're both trying not to think about Angélico--or what they saw in the split second when he jumped from that balcony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Intolerable Radiance of Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedLeaderfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/gifts).



_ There is a rumour and a radiance of wings above my head,  
An intolerable radiance of wings… --Rupert Brooke, “Sleeping Out: Full Moon” _

Ivelisse Vélez is dreaming again. She knows she is dreaming, and yet she cannot wake.

(She’s not sure she wants to.)

Her leg is screaming with pain, and she is pressed against the turnbuckle--she is not cowering, she is _not_ cowering--as the Crew comes toward her, canes in hand.

(She wants to see it again.)

Her teammates cannot help her, even if they wanted to--and she’s not sure they want to. Havoc is sprawled on the floor. Angélico is stranded on the balcony high above. Ivelisse is alone.

Just like she always has been.

(She needs to see it again. To feel--)

The believers in the Temple are shrieking, baying. They want her to get up, and she would, if only to spit defiance in the face of the Crew, but her leg will not support her weight. Ivelisse braces herself against the pain that she knows is coming, snarls her fury at them.

The screaming of the crowd suddenly changes in pitch, spiraling upward into disbelief, terror, something like exaltation--

And that’s when it happens.

Wings. Vast feathered wings of pure light that seem to unfurl to fill the whole Temple, intolerably bright. Wings that beat against the ceiling, that gild the concrete walls with glints of argent and gold. For an impossible, endless moment, Ivelisse stares upward at something that she knows with one part of her mind is Angélico, just Angélico, stupid smarmy asshole Angélico jumping into the ring.

But with another, deeper part of her soul she sees something she cannot process, something too luminous to comprehend, too beautiful. A glory that fills the Temple with a terrible grace.

In that timeless moment, something brushes Ivelisse’s cheek like a caress, a glancing touch that seems to shatter her soul into shaking joy.

And then Angélico is lying in the ring, long body loose and tumbled and quite vulnerably human on the mat, pale against the cryptic ochre markings; the Crew are sprawled beside him, and the Temple is erupting into screams of disbelief and delight. Ivelisse stares, shuddering, her spirit racked by the echoes of rapture. It takes all of her strength and all of her will to stagger to her feet, to shake off the vision and to direct her boys--she does not have time to wonder when they became her boys, but they are--to the win, to the triumph, to the shining glory that awaits them.

That moment. The moment radiant feathers touch her cheek like cool fire. She dreams it over and over, and the only reason she can bear to wake up is--

* * *

Son of Havoc’s snores rattled Ivelisse from her sleep and she resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him, if only because he’d be even more insufferable tomorrow if she did. Propping herself up on an elbow, she stared at him sprawled out, mouth ajar, on the other bed. Still wearing his mask, because nothing could compel him to remove it. She had considered sneaking into the bathroom while he showered to see if he even took it off then, but had decided against it. What did she care what his face looked like, anyway? She didn't. Not at all. It was just strange to know what a guy’s dick looked like but not his face. Not that she'd gotten a look at his dick recently. 

She wondered why they were still traveling together. She wondered why they weren’t in the same bed.

She wondered if the answer to those both those questions was somehow the same thing.

They’d left with no plan, heading back for the open road and letting the horizon drag them along. Ivelisse had found the road winding into the mountains, far from the City of Angels and into the Rockies, as if they were fleeing something. Fleeing upward day after day, always up, to where the air was thin and the stars were impossibly bright, as if they were trying to take flight somehow. They spoke little, and when they did it was to argue over pointless things--where to eat lunch, who got to shower first, whether that bright point in the heavens was Venus or Mars or just some lonely satellite. Anyone seeing them bickering in the greasy diners and gas stations would have thought they hated each other.

Yet sometimes when she was driving Havoc would put his arms around her, warm and sure, and she would feel his heart beating against her and know he was there and always would be. That nothing she could say could drive him away now. The thought made her feel weak and giddy with relief, and when she felt that she would find something to chew Havoc out over, and he would roll his eyes and growl something irritable. He felt it too, she knew that as sure as she knew a sunset flip, in her muscles and sinews and bones.

So why weren’t they fucking? She was willing, and she was pretty sure he was too, but it was like there was something...missing. It was a strange feeling. Her grandfather had lost a leg in Vietnam, and he told her once about how he could still feel it now and then. Phantom pain, he called it. But this wasn’t pain. It was just...a lack.

She tried not to think about it too much, and she dreamed of silver wings and woke up with tears in the corners of her eyes, and they drove higher and higher, day after day.

* * *

She barely noticed when it happened, when the horizon shifted west again and they found themselves driving into sunsets instead of sunrises, when the road started to meander back the way they had come. Ivelisse could feel something under her breastbone, tugging. Pulling. Like a call, an echo (could light have an echo?). A cry. 

Havoc didn’t seem to notice or to care where they were going, and she certainly wasn’t going to mention it to him.

They left the stars behind and descended once more, and the tug became more urgent, edging closer to pain, and Ivelisse stepped on the gas as Idaho and then Nevada blurred by.

* * *

_Wings, beating against the dusty air of the Temple, flooding it with light. Feathers brush her cheek, more delicate than love, more searing than lust, and everywhere around her is a thunder and a clamor and a glory of wings, of wings, of wings--_

Ivelisse woke up with the sound of her own shaking voice sweet as honey on her tongue. She swallowed hard, still disoriented, and realized Havoc was sitting up in the other bed, staring at her.

“I saw it too,” he said.

* * *

They finally slept together that night, simply clinging to each other’s human warmth, aching together, saying little. She found herself weeping against him once. “It was so beautiful,” she whispered, almost ashamed to admit it.

“I know,” Havoc said, smoothing her hair, his voice rough and deep with something she had never heard there before. “I know.”

Hours later, as dawn started to touch the curtains, he murmured, “Dario saw it too,” and Ivelisse shuddered and nodded.

They checked out as soon as it was light enough. The road lay like a dark serpent in front of them, and their tires hissed as they headed unerringly into the Mojave Desert.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they spotted it: an almost-circular rock formation that towered upward, its sides steep and forbidding, narrowing to a flat top. The sky was clear, but sullen lightning played around the top in sickly hues of purple and green, like a bruise against the sky. A sudden gust of wind swiped at them and a flurry of what seemed like sparks went flickering past. Havoc reached out and plucked one of the sparks from the air, and Ivelisse heard him curse before holding it up so she could see it:

A shining feather, smudged with scarlet.

She screamed into the wind and stepped on the gas, urging the bike forward, and for a moment she and Havoc and the bike leaped into the wind like knights on a charger.

And then their motorcycle sputtered and died with a cough.

“What the hell!” yelled Havoc, throwing himself off the bike before it even finished coasting to a halt. “Why the hell would the cam chain break _now_?”

“It’s not my fault, stop yelling at me!” screamed Ivelisse, putting her fists to her temples and glaring at the bike. 

“I’m not yelling at you!”

“You are too, you--”

A low, greedy rumble of thunder like a cruel chuckle reached their ears, and their heads snapped around to stare at the mesa in the distance.

Havoc grabbed her hand. “We run,” he said.

“The bike!” she started to protest, then stopped, shaking her head. It would be useless, since they were coming back with three people anyway.

 _Or we’re not coming back at all,_ she thought as she broke into a run, Havoc at her side.

* * *

The sky was dark with dusk by the time they finally reached the base of the mesa and began to clamber up it, hands scrabbling on stone, thorny plants tearing at them. Havoc reached down to take her hand and haul her up, his face limned with eldritch colors by the unearthly lightning, pale and set. She scrambled past him, then took her turn clasping his arm, pulling him upward, sweat-slick skin on skin.

They climbed higher, rose together, the sound of their hoarse breaths underlined by malign thunder and the pounding of Ivelisse’s heart. The air was filled with the scent of incense and hot rock and something that Ivelisse somehow knew was brimstone.

When they emerged at the top, for a moment they stopped dead in shock. Ivelisse felt Havoc reach for her hand, and they clung to each other like lost children.

Wings. The first thing she saw were the same vast wings of light that haunted her dreams, outstretched and straining. But now they weren’t free and brilliant against the air, they were pinned to the stone by two crystal posts that pierced through them cruelly, crimson staining their silver. Lying on those wings, framed by their fanned radiance, was Angélico, his face twisted in agony, hands clutching at the air. Across his bare chest were vivid scarlet welts--whip marks? Claw marks? Ivelisse wasn’t sure. Two other posts buzzed and crackled at his feet, marking out a square on the stone. A fresh bolt of vicious purple-green lightning crackled between the crystal shafts and arced overhead, and Angélico convulsed silently.

Ivelisse shrieked something wordless and ragged with fury, heard it echoed by Havoc as she ran forward into the square created by those four posts.

Angélico’s eyes snapped open and for one instant they were filled with shock and disbelieving wonder. Then he yelled “Look out, you idiots!” as two shadows seemed to detach themselves from the looming darkness and came at them, treading on the silver wings and leaving the feathers broken and stained with shadow.

Ivelisse ignored Angélico’s warning and laughed at the shadows. “You can’t beat us,” she said, and felt Havoc’s rumbling chuckle entwine with hers. Because she _knew_ the dimensions of the square created by those crystal posts, just as surely as she knew the ochre markings drawn under Angélico’s body, and she knew that no human and no demon stood a chance when the three of them were in a wrestling ring together.

It was satisfying, in fact, to finally _fight_ something, to kick it and make it fall back, to hurl it from the ring and watch it dissipate. Havoc’s foe made a shrill shrieking noise as he delivered a clean full nelson slam on it, sending it right over the edge of the mesa and into nothingness, its obsidian claws clutching futilely at him. Ivelisse put her back against his and glared out, daring anything further to come at them, but there were no further challenges, and she felt triumph throb through her.

And then all triumph fell away as the air crackled again and Angélico screamed, a long hoarse wail of agony, as if he had been trying to make no sound for hours on end and could bear it no longer.

Havoc and Ivelisse whirled and rushed to where the cruel crystal posts were sunk into the wings. Ivelisse felt her sweat-slick hands scrabble for purchase on the crystal that seemed to sear her skin with something not quite flame, not quite acid. She howled with rage and ripped at the post, seeing Havoc straining at its twin on the right side. 

“Don't give up!” she screamed at him.

“Don't tell me what to do!” he bellowed back, and she saw his shoulders bunch with desperate effort.

And at last, both posts came free simultaneously. Ivelisse started to shout with triumph, but her cry was cut off as the vast brilliant wings snapped upward, slapping her to the stone in an explosion of feathers and light.

She sprawled on the smooth stone and stared as Angélico launched himself into the dark sky, framed by wings brighter and purer than any star. He sailed upward, soaring free, his face turned to the starry heavens, climbing away from them. 

_Away from them._

“You son of a bitch!” she heard herself scream, shrill with panic and anger. “Don't you dare! Don't you dare!”

“Coward!” yelled Son of Havoc from beside her. “Get your ass back here!”

Angélico looked down at them. The ethereal wings against the night sky faltered.

And then they were gone entirely, and it was just a man who was falling from the sky, plummeting downward in a pale, helpless line.

Havoc leaped forward and caught him before he hit the stone and he lay in Havoc’s arms, eyes closed. Just a man.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” whispered Ivelisse, smoothing sweat-damp hair back from his forehead to touch her lips to it.

* * *

The climb back down was unpleasant, with Angélico limp and bloody in Havoc’s arms, Havoc slipping on stones, staggering. They walked past the useless bike, making for the road. Angélico was shivering in the cold desert night; Havoc’s jacket was stained with his blood. “No hospitals,” he whispered, interrupting their argument about how to get him to one. “I’ll heal. I just need to rest.”

They were ignored by the few passing cars until, near dawn, a pickup driven by an incurious farmer stopped and let them ride in the back to the nearest town. Ivelisse sat next to Havoc, Angélico’s legs draped over her own. She listened to the breath hissing between his teeth, the way he swallowed pain when the truck hit a bump.

After a while, she realized her head had fallen onto Havoc’s shoulder. She put an arm around Angélico and the three of them clung to each other. 

Eventually, Angélico stopped shivering.

* * *

Ivelisse rented the room: the motel manager gave a dubious look to the woman dressed in a studded black leather bustier, her hair tangled and dusty and her arms scored with thorn-marks, but it was probably a better reaction than he would have given the masked, bloodstained man carrying a half-naked injured guy.

Havoc laid Angélico down on the bed--the bedspread was cheap and shiny, teal dotted with garish pink roses--and Angélico sighed, his eyes closed.

“He’s a mess,” Havoc said to Ivelisse.

Angélico whispered something too low and broken to catch, but it sounded snarky.

Havoc and Ivelisse looked at each other. “I’ll get him some water,” Havoc said.

“I’ll get him washed up,” Ivelisse said almost simultaneously.

She came back from the bathroom with a damp washcloth to find Angélico motionless on the bed, his arms outflung, his welted chest rising and falling rapidly. “Relax,” she said. “I’m just going to clean you up a bit.”

His eyes opened a crack and he looked at her blearily as she bent over him, getting the worst of the dust and blood off his body. The door opened and Havoc came back in with a bottle of water. 

“You came for me,” Angélico whispered, looking from one to the other.

“Can you sit up a little?” said Havoc. “You need to drink something.”

“You...came for me,” Angélico repeated. Ivelisse helped him sit up and he drank thirstily from the bottle Havoc held to his lips, water spilling out the sides and onto his chest. She dabbed it away. “That was stupid,” he said as he finished drinking. “So I guess I should have expected it.”

“Shut up,” they both said at the same time, and he chuckled weakly, then winced. Havoc reached out and eased him back down onto the bed, where he lay with his eyes closed, his breathing evening out into sleep.

“I’ll shower first,” said Havoc, and for once Ivelisse didn’t argue with him.

Ivelisse looked down at Angélico for a long time, listening to the water run in the other room. Were his wounds already paler? Havoc came back--mask firmly back in place, of course, she noticed with a stab of something tethered between irritation and sadness--and she took her turn in the shower, sluicing off the dust and the blood, letting the hot water anchor her with reality a little bit.

She emerged wearing clean clothes, her hair damp, and caught Havoc looking down at Angélico in turn. He looked up quickly and she expected that his eyes behind the mask would go wary once more, but they didn’t. Instead, he looked at her with that same mix of wonder and fear--as if she were a miracle he didn’t expect--and she felt sudden tears sting her eyes. 

She pulled up a chair to sit down next to him. She wasn’t sure if he reached out first or if she did, but somehow their hands found each other and their fingers entwined. 

Together they sat and watched Angélico sleep, watched the shadows cast by his lashes onto his cheeks flicker as dawn slipped through the gap in the curtains and touched his face with light.

* * *

She woke slowly, disoriented but without any sense of panic. She was warm, and safe, and--

Her eyes opened wide as she realized that she was lying on the bed, her arms around Angélico’s bare torso. Bare and unmarked, she realized, blinking at it. Then she realized there were arms around her waist as well, a face buried between her shoulderblades. She felt the crinkle of beard against her back as Havoc made a blurry muttering noise and tucked his hips more tightly up against hers.

She looked up to see Angélico grinning at her, that smarmy, smug grin that used to make her want to punch him _so hard._

“I’m sorry,” she said, confused. “When did we--”

“A while ago,” he said. “You’d fallen asleep in the chairs and it looked like you could use some rest, so I just kind of tugged you onto the bed.”

“Oh,” she said. “You’re healed,” she added, trailing her fingers from his collarbone down to his navel without thinking. 

“Uh--yeah,” he said, and there was a breathless note to his voice that made her look up and meet his gaze. She’d expected him to be smirking again, but no--he looked almost surprised, his face oddly vulnerable and young. “That’s--” He broke off. 

She felt Havoc shift behind her, felt his breath on her back quicken slightly.

This time she did it deliberately, keeping her eyes locked with his: letting her fingers slip up along his abs, across his chest, running upward over his Adam’s apple to touch his mouth. Then back down at a leisurely pace to his navel and then slightly lower, hovering at the waistband of his tights.

Angélico swallowed hard. “Thank you for rescuing me,” he said, sounding as if gratitude were a foreign language to him, one he wanted to get just right. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Behind her, Havoc tucked his hips in closer to hers and she could feel the push of his arousal against her ass. “Fuck you,” Havoc muttered sleepily, then lifted his free hand to slap Angélico’s chest, not gently. “Not leaving.” He slapped again, more softly this time. “Didn’t drive all this way just to let you kick us out when you didn’t need us anymore.” The third slap was almost a caress, and he let his hand rest there. Ivelisse put her hand over his, slipping her fingers into the gaps between his, and he made a small sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“I.” Angélico stopped and took two very careful breaths. “I still need you,” he said.

“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said in _ages,_ ” Ivelisse said, and kissed him.

He surged upward into the kiss as if he were taking flight again, his arms going around her--to clasp Havoc’s shoulders and pull him tighter against her, Ivelisse realized. “It is,” he said against her mouth in something that was close to a sob. “The first in ages and ages and ages and ages.”

Ivelisse ducked out of his arms, shifting to straddle him in one smooth motion and leaving him holding Havoc’s shoulders, the two of them staring at each other in a dumbfounded way that made her bite the back of her hand to keep from giggling. “I--want to kiss you,” Havoc growled, sounding somewhere between eager and confused, and Ivelisse felt Angélico’s cock twitch hard against her.

“I want to see your face,” whispered Angélico, and everyone stopped breathing.

Havoc licked his lips. “Deal,” he said, and leaned in to put his mouth to Angélico’s.

It was a clumsy, awkward kiss, but far more tender than Ivelisse would have ever imagined (not that she had ever imagined it, late at night. Definitely not). Angélico lifted his hands to touch Havoc’s face, to slip his fingers under the edge of Havoc’s mask, and the sight of him breaching that boundary made Ivelisse bite her lip, her breath coming faster. Havoc made a low sound in his throat and Ivelisse reached out to touch his neck, to slide her hands up and under the black cloth in turn, peeling it away. She could feel him shuddering under her touch as he leaned into the kiss, shivering as the mask was lifted and tossed aside. 

His face looked oddly bare without it, the beard unbalanced without its black weight. He broke the kiss and sat back, breathing heavily, his eyes flicking from one to the other as if afraid they would laugh, or push him away. “Nothing special,” he said at last with a slight gesture toward his face.

 _“Fuck you,”_ Angélico and Ivelisse said as one, and each of them grabbed an arm to reel him back against them.

Havoc chuckled low in his throat and slipped behind Ivelisse, straddling Angélico’s legs. Moving her hair to the side, he nuzzled the back of her neck. His hands were resting on Angélico’s thighs; she reached behind her to grab them and bring them around to her breasts. She bit back a moan as his fingers slipped into her bustier to tease her nipples, and watched as Angélico’s eyes went wide, his erection hard beneath her. She could feel Havoc pressing against her as well and moved her hips in a languid circle, rubbing against each of them in turn.

“You look so good,” murmured Angélico, and the appreciation in his eyes was for them both. “I want--” He broke off and swallowed hard. “I want to see you fuck.”

Havoc made a hissing sound against her skin. “You just want to watch?”

“Oh,” said Angélico, and his smile was the cocky smirk she knew far too well. “I won’t just be watching, I promise.”

She stared at him for a second, then shrugged and grabbed Havoc’s arm, throwing him onto his back on the bed beside Angélico, then getting up to stand beside the bed. He growled low in his throat, but it tilted upward into a different sound altogether as she undid his belt buckle and pulled his pants down. 

“Tightie whities?” said Angélico. “I approve.”

“Why am I the only one getting naked here?” Havoc complained as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his briefs. He looked like he wanted to cover his face, more unnerved by his lack of mask than his lack of pants.

“Because you’re following my lead,” Ivelisse pointed out.

“Ah,” said Havoc. He opened his mouth as if he might continue to protest, but closed it again as she pulled off his underwear. If Ivelisse noticed that he raised his hips to make it easier for her, she decided now might not be a good time to point it out.

She smiled down at him, keeping it lazy and wicked, the way he always used to like it. “You remember what to do next,” she murmured.

He swallowed hard and his eyes flicked to Angélico, who shrugged and said, “Like the lady said.”

 _“Lady,”_ snorted Havoc, but he still reached down and took his cock in his hand, caressing himself slowly, his eyes locked on her. 

“That’s nice,” said Ivelisse. And it was, oh, it was very nice indeed. “Harder,” she whispered, and he made a small sound and tightened his grip, and that old familiar warmth sparked inside her. “Oh,” she said. “Yes. Slower.” Havoc slowed down immediately, biting his lip. He could see how hard it was for him, but he did it. “Good,” she crooned, and he gasped slightly. She could feel herself getting wet, losing herself in the moment, the endless perfect _now_ of their bodies aroused together. It hadn’t felt like this at all near the end, there had been nothing but sullenness and anger. But now, somehow--

Havoc’s eyes were drifting closed and she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Eyes on me,” she said. “Thoughts on me.” 

He sighed--no exasperation in it, only relief and surrender--and opened his eyes to meet hers as if nothing else mattered. _God,_ that felt good.

Angélico made an appreciative sound and she cast him a quick look. There was a hectic flush in his cheeks and his eyes were dark and wide; he seemed to be having a hard time deciding whether to watch Havoc or her.

“Are you just going to stare like a kid in a candy store, or are you going to touch yourself too?” she snapped.

“Um,” said Angélico.

“Like--like the lady said,” stammered Havoc, voice thick with lust.

Angélico shook his head with something like bemusement and slipped his hand into his tights. “Ah,” he said, his face tightening with arousal. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

“Mm,” she said, and ran her hands from her hips up to cup her breasts. “Havoc,” she murmured, turning her back, “Take a break for a moment and get me out of my clothes.”

Havoc made an enthusiastic sound and sat up to undo her bustier, letting it fall onto the floor. Then he helped her shimmy out of her pants until she stood nude, legs planted as though ready to deliver a kick, arms crossed under her breasts. Angélico was staring at both of them with a look on his face that made her want to shudder. _He’s just a man,_ she told herself. _You’ve dealt with plenty of men before. So this one sometimes has wings, big deal._

“I could--” Havoc started, bending toward her crotch, his breath fast and eager. She put a hand on his head, staying him, and he made a small whining sound.

“Not tonight,” she said.

Angélico’s eyes were half-closed but avid, his hand busy in the front of his tights. “I could jerk him off while he did it,” he said in a dreamy voice. “And watch your face.”

Ivelisse inhaled slow and careful at the thought, and heard Havoc whisper something under his breath that was extremely obscene and quite enthusiastic. “There’ll be time for all of that,” she said, and saw the promise of it hit Angélico hard enough that he gasped. “But you said you wanted to watch us fuck.” She reached out and pushed Havoc’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back, then slid onto the bed and straddled him, letting his cock glide along the cleft of her pussy.

Angélico hissed something in a language that wasn’t English and didn’t sound like Afrikaans either. He pushed his trunks down without seeming to realize he was doing so, desperate to get a better grasp on himself. “Do it,” he muttered between his teeth. “Get him inside you. I want to see it.”

“Don’t--” Ivelisse was having a hard time keeping her voice steady as Havoc pushed up against her, but she managed somehow. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Please,” said Angélico, managing to sound exasperated instead of pleading. “Please? Please fuck? I’ve imagined it all so much and I’ve needed it, needed to see you locked together with me guarding you--” His breath hitched and his hand tightened, “Watching over you, _please_ , Ivelisse, I can’t stand it anymore, and I’ve waited a lot longer than you know.”

Ivelisse blinked at the sudden desolation in his voice, and he shook his head, turning away from the question in her eyes. _Just a man,_ she reminded herself. _Just a smug, arrogant asshole with pretty eyes and a nice cock. And sometimes wings._

“Stop whining,” she said, managing to keep her voice steady, and let Havoc’s cock finally slide into her. 

She bit back a gasp--he’d always felt good inside her, but somehow this time it was even better. Havoc’s eyes, strangely vulnerable without the mask, opened wide and he groaned, bucking his hips upward to grind against her. “Hh--” she started to say, and her voice broke in a wave of pleasure and she had to start again. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Angélico whispered, and the awe in his voice sparked off impossible things inside her. She rocked back with a gasp, her back arching, her hair brushing Havoc’s thighs.

“Oh,” said Havoc. “That’s--” He stammered something that seemed to be both of their names tangled together and his hands clasped her hips. 

_“God,”_ groaned Angélico, and in his deep lilting voice it sounded not like a curse at all. “You’re so perfect, my flawless stupid beautiful fuckups, I’ve searched for you for so long--”

Ivelisse felt her body tightening, felt pleasure coiling toward its inevitable release. It was so good, so good, better than anything, _better than winning_.

“There it is,” said Angélico. “Oh, yes. Fuck. I want to see you come.”

 _Don’t tell me what to do,_ Ivelisse thought, but it was fleeting and faint compared to the rush of rapture she felt flooding through her, tipping her over as Havoc twisted beneath her, lost in his own climax. 

Time seemed to stop, and for a moment--just a for a moment--she felt something soft brush her face, caress her breasts. Pleasure so intense it was nearly pain spiked through her, and she cried out, lost in it, hearing her voice echoed twice over. Pure bliss bound the three of them together in a carnal hymn, and above and around it all sang the rapturous beat of wings, of wings, of wings.

* * *

The three of them lay on the bed--it was too small for three rather large people--catching their breath. Ivelisse felt herself shaking, tried to make it stop. She glanced at Angélico, then away. Not just a man. She didn’t know what to say. She looked at Son of Havoc instead. He was staring at Angélico, and in his eyes was something close to awe, something that was almost fear.

Not just a man.

Angélico cleared his throat. Then he kicked Havoc lightly. “You call that fucking?” he said. His voice was studiously nonchalant, carefully obnoxious. “I’ll show you some _real_ fucking when I get my turn with her. I’ll light her up like a Christmas tree.”

“And what about when you get your turn with me?” Havoc said.

“I--” Angélico closed his mouth abruptly. “Um.” Ivelisse realized he was blushing slightly and had to suppress a giggle. “In what way?”

Havoc propped himself up on an elbow and glared at him. “In any way you’re up for, pretty boy.”

Angélico cleared his throat and rallied. “If you think you can handle me.”

“I didn’t think angels were supposed to be assholes,” Havoc said levelly, and there it was, the word she hadn’t been letting herself say. Hadn’t been letting herself think.

Angélico made a small sound that Ivelisse realized was pained laughter, and she found her hand on his shoulder, almost as if she would comfort him. “Why do you think I’m not in--not home?”

“I thought maybe you just wanted to make our lives miserable,” Ivelisse said. She kept her voice sharp, as if it could make up for how gently she was touching him.

“Making you miserable and being a trios champion, that’s my purpose in existence,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“Well, you’re doing great at the first one,” Havoc said. “Not so great with the second one.”

“We’ll just have to win them back,” Ivelisse said firmly.

“Catrina and Mil Muertes run the Temple now,” said Angélico, his voice bleak. “They have powers you can’t even imagine.”

“Ah,” said Ivelisse. “But we have an asshole angel, a masked badass biker...and me.”

After a moment, Havoc started to laugh. “I almost feel sorry for them,” he said, and reached out to draw his partners close.


End file.
